You're Bringing What into the House? ~ The Christmas Tree

There were no written histories in the days where such customs as bringing tree boughs indoors began, so there’s a lot of speculation about the origin of the Christmas tree.

It is thought that early Pagans in the north brought evergreen boughs into their homes and decorated them at the Winter Solstice. Some tales suggest this was a superstitious thing... providing a home for the wood nymphs through the cold winter so they wouldn’t play tricks on them come summer and mess up hunting, growing, etc. Others say it was just part of the celebration acknowledging the seasons. The Yule log in the north and laurel wreaths in the south also came from this seasonal celebration. Also in the south (Rome), where Pagans celebrated Saturnalia, houses might be decorated with evergreen clippings.

Honestly, Pagans could be credited with inventing the concept of the wreath more than the Christmas tree. But some Pagans in the south of Europe did decorate living trees with bits of metal and replicas of their Pagan Gods. It was this practice that may have frightened some early Christians, so there was intense opposition to the Christmas tree, strangely, mostly in northern Europe, in centuries past. They were outlawed in England for some time. But Martin Luther, German founder of the Lutheran Church, found a way to make the Christmas tree a symbol of Christian celebration, and so Germans began to once again enjoy the smell of evergreen in their homes at the Yuletide... or Christ Mass, or Christmas.

Christian holidays tend to fall at the same times of the seasons as Pagan celebrations. Christmas fell at the same time as Saturnalia (Roman holiday) and is close to the Winter Solstice, for instance. Easter is named for the Pagan Goddess of Fertility, Eostre. She was the symbol of spring time, when the ewes were lambing, chickens and other birds were laying, rabbits multiplied with extra zeal, etc. It is these symbols that were carried over into Christian celebrations, which fall near the Spring Equinox. It is thought this was done to lure Pagans into Christian churches to hear the stories of Christ in an environment that wasn’t totally strange to them. Either that, or Christians were just copy-cats, eh?

Anyway, in Victorian times, Queen Vic married Prince Albert, a German, and Albert brought the Christmas tree to the English palace. Well, you can’t very well outlaw a custom in all the country when the head family is enjoying it, can you? So opposition to this Christmas custom slowly waned and Christmas trees enjoyed a resurgence in England as well. It was probably brought to North American by Hessiens (German soldiers) but there are many legends as to how the custom crossed the ocean and spread.

Segue to modern day: Christmas trees have seen many incarnations, from real trees, to plastic, to silvery foil and more. But the original custom of bringing an evergreen into the house for the holidays seems to remain a favourite. Occasionally some well-meaning environmental group, organization, publication... will object on environmental grounds. This is because, though they mean well, they haven’t informed themselves. There is no need to “save” real Christmas trees as if someone has schlepped into the boreal forest to cut them down. They haven’t. Christmas trees are grown on tree farms. They are an economically and environmentally viable, renewable crop resource that is actually good for the environment. I mean, fields upon fields of little evergreens can only be helping the Earth breathe.

Some people object to disposal methods when the holidays are over, but this is something that people need to address in their communities by being proactive in the political decisions being made in their community for waste management. There is NEVER any excuse to throw used Christmas trees in landfill. That’s just wrong. They are compostible, at the very least. If your community does not have a waste management strategy that deals responsibly with used Christmas trees... well, for one thing, you need to get more involved in your community and change that, but for another, you can ask a local farmer if they'll take trees to compost or you can compost your tree yourself, either by cutting or grinding it up and throwing it into your composter, or by putting it with your autumn leaves to compost. If you’re in a municipality that allows outdoor fires, just throw it into a corner of the yard till spring and there you go... fire wood. (Outdoors only... soft, sappy evergreen wood is not good for an indoor wood stove or chimney.) Or of course, if you're in a snowy region, you can always stand it up in a snow bank and hang orange peel in it for the birds until it falls apart of its own accord as Spring approaches. Then compost it. There are a number of responsible ways to deal with used Christmas trees.

Please, if you celebrate Solstice, Christmas or like holiday where an evergreen figures in, and unless you have allergies, buy a real tree ~ a better economic and environmental choice for a joyful holiday celebration.

Humanity is, of its own accord, a cosmic conundrum held together by sticky threads of irony

If 71% of the Earth’s surface is covered with water and humans are made up of roughly 70% water, why do we have to pay for it?

What fashion statement is a nudist making? And what do they do when it snows? I know you’re going to say they live in a snow-free climate, but... these days? Really?

Why is 53% considered a good voting turn out?

We can put people on the moon, so why can’t we park our cars straight without those little yellow lines?

Why do we insist that French fries are vegetables?

Why do we think we’re so important that we have to drive and talk on the phone both at the same time?

Why do we call any schnook who does a good deed a “good Samaritan” when the point of the original story was to show compassion for an enemy?

Why do we struggle to buy gifts for people who have everything?

We’ve been sent many teachers to guide us. They all had similar messages. Why do most of us think we have to pick just one and fight over it with those who pick another?

I know, religion and politics are off limits, but how does one talk about human irony without them? Just another sticky irony, eh? Or is it a conundrum?

Anyway~~
If you can, please give to those less fortunate this holiday season. If you’re one of those armchair philosophers who’s going to say this doesn’t really help anyone, kindness always helps. If you don't want to give, don't give. That's what freedom is all about. But don't look for validation from others. Just keep your excuses.

A box of food is a short-term help to those going through a temporary downturn in fortune. Non-perishable food items to a food bank in your community is a great way to reach out to others in need. And Gifts of Magic via Unicef, as well as Gifts of Hope via Plan, are longer-term international giving options for those who have everything.

There are many other worthy caring options in most communities as well, such as hospital funds, meals for the elderly and homeless, wildlife and animal shelters or programs, and more. Sharing the challenges along with the benefits is what community is really all about.

Happy xmasolstichanakwanzadan ... hehe. (Full credit to Jo Qatana for this amalgamation of seasonal holidays.) Have a safe, warm holiday season filled with love and many bright blessings.

It Isn't A Mouse At All!!

Hahahaha.... joke's on us! That little grey mouse we'd only caught glimpses of is actually a silver-grey mole!

And what a healthy coat he has! Well, I guess he should, since he's been living off salmon and free-range chicken cat food.

Last night we were sitting at the table solving all the world's problems when I noticed a grey nose sticking out from under the fridge. "There's the mouse," I said, with what I thought was a remarkable grasp of the obvious.

The slow, fat cat came over and took an interest, crouching into the pounce position. Then, here came the little critter out from under the kitchen counter toward the cat dishes. The cat did nothing. And I said, "hey... that's not a mouse. It's a mole."

To which Hubby replied, "yes it is. And apparently the cat is keeping it for a pet."

"We should call it Digger," I said, helpfully.

"I should get a REAL mouse trap," said Hubby. "And I like Driller better," he added. We watched the mole and the cat for awhile longer, then our daughter came into the room. We told her what was going on.

"I like Digger better," she said, adding her two cents.

"Sorry Dear," I said to Hubby. "You're out-voted."

"Again," he observed.

Meanwhile the mole came out to sniff at a bottle that was sitting on the floor near the sink. The cat watched it, but didn't seem to want to pounce. The mole ducked back under the counter unit and came out a minute later at the cat dishes again. It took another piece. All together it came out 4 or 5 times for a bit of dinner, but before it was done, the cat lost interest and just wandered away.

A mole. We have a mole named Digger living in our kitchen. I wonder what it's fate will be. Hubby was wondering if moles and mice co-exist. "Maybe," he pondered, "if we leave it alone, the mice will stay away."

Heh... my kitchen is turning into some sort of bizarre zoo. :p

The Cats, the Mouse and the Dust Bunny

Ok, so here’s the whole sordid story:

Awhile back we put in a new kitchen counter. At first Hubby and I thought we could do this ourselves. We were trying to change the taps and got stuck, so we put them back on. Or so we thought. But then there was this big bang and first one, then another geyser spewed forth from where the knobs used to be. (The knobs were now bouncing around in the kitchen.)

Our daughter heard all this from her room, said to herself, “oh my God, they’re plumbing!” and promptly hid under her covers.

Hubby and I decided we really ought to get help, so we called on a handy man type fella. Together he and hubby took out the old outfit and put in the new counter. While they were doing this they took out a few extra pipes that were just there, doin’ nothin’. This left holes in the floor under the new counter. We don’t have a basement. Underneath the kitchen is a crawl space. A crawl space into which tiny wildlife types generally move when the weather turns cold. You know, like mice for instance.

I thought everything was under control when they were putting in the counter. I went out to pick up a few things. I left the MEN to look after things. Which is to say, no one thought to plug up the holes in the kitchen floor from the extraneous pipes BEFORE putting in the new counter. Yep. So here come the li’l miceys with their tiny suitcases just as soon as that autumn breeze blows a little cold. Into the crawl space under the kitchen they squeeze. They look up.

Ok, excuse me a minute while I work on this WRITTEN INVITATION to the tiny creatures to move into the house proper. *sigh*

So we see evidence that there are mice in the kitchen. No, no... this will not do. We have cats. We have steel wool with which to plug those holes. Better late than never, right?

Longer story, shorter:
There are two cats. They sleep a lot. *yawn* You want us to catch what?? One cat just happens to be standing by her food dish when the mouse peeps out from under the counter. She takes a swipe at it. She misses; it scurries back under. She shrugs, scratches her ear, goes in search of a comfy place to flop.

Irony: the mouse seems to be thriving on little pieces of cat food. My life is fraught with little ironies.

It's a little grey mouse. He seems to be alone. Hubby plugged up the holes, apparently trapping the lone, adventuresome mouse on this side of the holes. (Mouse: “Hey! Who locked the doors??”) Hubby put out a “humane” trap. The mouse PLAYS with it. Like the guy who bungee jumps for kicks, this mouse routinely goes into the “humane” trap and wrestles around for awhile. He is NEVER in there when Hubby checks the trap.

There’s an elusive dust bunny under my couch. I’ve gone after it with a broom. I’ve gone after it with a duster. I’ve gone after it with a vacuum. It’s a dancing dust bunny and it dances around under there out the way of any weapon I bring to the battle. I wrestle with it. It wins.

So last night, I was sitting here, by the fire, using this computer, the cats were sleeping contentedly, the dog was snoring beside me, and I heard noises. It occurred to me that maybe the dust bunny was trying to catch the mouse. Now, you can say what you want, but I think they were actually dancing. I really do. While the fire crackled on one side of me and the animals all slept, the mouse and dust bunny were tripping the light fantastic in the dark corners of my wee house. I know it. *sigh*

This is Will

Handsome, freckle-faced, almost always smiling, talented, youthful. He’ll always be youthful. Will played the fiddle, piano, wind instruments. He loved music. Seems whatever instrument he attempted he could play. His talent was just natural. Will’s dad and uncle were in the army, so when his country became embroiled in a conflict, Will wanted to join the army too. Problem was, he was only 17. That was too young. But Will was determined, so he ran away and tried to join under an assumed name by lying about his age. He was caught, fortunately, and returned home.

But his mom was frightened. She worried about him running away again and maybe getting away with joining up under another name, and then, if something bad happened, she might never know what became of him. He really wanted to join up, so she signed her permission on the condition that he was admitted to the bugle corp, which was supposed to be kept behind the lines.

And so he went. Wounded in France, he was transferred to an army hospital in England. He was able to send a few letters to his mom with the help of the nurses there. The mayor of a city near his home heard about him and raised money to send his mom overseas to be with him. But even as she packed for the trip, she received news that Will had succumbed to his injuries.

I don’t like war. I guess no one really does, except maybe despots and power mongers. We now try to teach our kids that problems aren’t solved with violence. We discourage them from fighting for things in the school yard, in the back yard, or anywhere. We don’t even let Mom and Dad whack the kids anymore, because corporal discipline is no way to properly raise a child. Even the measured blow of a loving parent on the bum to make a point is a no-no.... because violence doesn’t solve anything. And yet, in amazingly hypocritical governmental policy for dealing with other countries and their policies, we still send young people to war to fight and die for political reasons.

Will died in the “war to end all wars,” or the first world war. He was a bugler with a Canadian drum and bugle corp and was wounded in the head with a piece of shrapnel in a small town in France. He was 17 and ½ years old when he died. He is buried in a military cemetery in England. If he had not been killed in a war, who knows what innovation to style, recording or instrumentation this young man might have contributed to the music industry? And perhaps if he’d had kids, one of them might have inherited his talent and made great strides in music too.

Will was my uncle. I never knew him. Hell, my mom, who was his sister, never knew him. I have his fiddle. On Remembrance Day (Veterans' Day in the U.S.) I will remember my Uncle Will who went overseas to help in the political struggle that was supposed to end conflict. And I will salute my dad, who probably died younger than he should have because he went overseas in the big war after that ~ for four years. I don’t like that we are so primitive as a species that we still have wars, but despite what we tell our children, we still do. So on November 11th I will pay homage to the sacrifices of the men and women who have given so much to preserve our freedoms. I do this not just because of their sacrifice, but because of ours. Yes, we have freedoms for which I am grateful. But I can’t help wondering how different, how much better, our world and our way of life might have been if all those vibrant, talented young people who gave their lives in conflict, hadn’t had to.

Imagine. Just imagine.

The Legend of Rock Soup Examined

It’s a great story, about how this wandering peasant came into a village hoping for some handouts. He was hungry, he was willing to work, but he needed some sustenance first. But the houses... the humble wee houses... were all locked up tight, their occupants keeping to themselves, protecting what little they had from everyone else.

They were all poor themselves. Each of these households only had so much, they had no intention of sharing. None of them had enough to share, they thought. So the wanderer picked up a rock and called out to the villagers, proposing to light a fire in the square and make a soup out of this rock. It was to be a big pot of soup they could all share. The villagers watched this crazy man from their windows as he somehow assembled a fire, a large old pot which he filled with water from the river, and then added his rock. One by one they came out of their houses to watch this crazy man. Each brought some small thing they could afford to show him what was really needed to make a healthy soup. One came with a carrot, one an onion, one a potato, one some cabbage, etc. Before long, the rock soup began to resemble a real soup, giving off the delicious odour of a nutritional meal. As it cooked, neighbours got acquainted and shared their stories, and when the soup was ready, everyone got a meal from the pot, including the resourceful wanderer.
Of course, it’s a story of community. None of us is an island and all that. And indeed, there are some great places online to share nuggets of our experience, knowledge, acquired wisdom, as well as great sites to learn new things and toss around ideas, and blogs to read about what others are experiencing. Many are focussed on one aspect of one thing, such as health, but if it’s where you need to be, that’s great. Some are more general in their scope, and are also free. Physically ill from the gluten in my diet and very depressed from it as well, I went to several sites this past Spring, and it was on the health sites that I discovered what might be my problem. I removed gluten from my diet and began to feel better. I took vitamin D and Omega 3 and began to pick up mentally and emotionally as well. I found ideas at one site and began a renewed exploration of self, where I was at and where I was headed. It was here I discovered the legend of Rock Soup.

The owner of this site is well versed in legend, learning, philosophy and life. He put out some very thought-provoking ideas in videos as well as posts that helped get my brain working again. The only problem I had with this site, was that there was no one of my age and experience to talk with. This man was gathering quite the following of young people. Now don’t get me wrong... I have nothing against young people. They are refreshing and often have approaches and ideas that keep the aging mind alive. Out of the mouths of babes and all that. But a sprinkling of older folk would be nice on such sites too... sort of for balance.

Also, I can't help noticing that the internet is not the money-making glam marketplace some think it ought to be. A lot of sites start out free and wind up trying to make their buck up front because people just aren’t buying the products advertised. Others earn their keep by getting visitors to at least click on an ad. But do they? Too many internet users are like me, I suspect. I will not pay to toss around ideas and I do not buy what others tell me I need. Cheap? Ok. C'mon, rabid consumerism just isn’t sustainable. So I decide for myself what I need, thanks. I have only ever paid for one site: enchantedlearning.com. It’s a nominal fee to access a plethora of educational materials that would cost substantially more in a trendy education store. It was a very worthwhile fee in other words, and I paid it gladly.

So, as helpful as any chat site might be, I'm just not paying for one. I will bring a carrot to the soup, a nugget of what I have learned, I will bring something to share and take away a small bowl of soup, but I will not pay for the privilege. I have been casting around, looking for art sites and have found a group of quilling artists I can relate to, as well as other ways to keep in touch with others, while leaving myself enough time to pursue improved health, my writing, my art, my projects, my life. And if I have to go back to hiding inside my humble home because everyone wants money, I guess I can always dust off my library card ~ a less personal form of community. I have something to give while I’m on here, but it isn’t money. Here’s a valid question to ponder: if every one of those villagers makes their own soup and is trying to sell it door-to-door, who’s going to do the buying?

Mmmmmm.... good soup. Please pass the salt.

A Costume Exchange ~ Really?

I understand the concept of food banks, winter coat exchanges, even prom dress exchanges. These things help those less fortunate in a society that seems increasingly geared to leaving people behind. But this past week I heard a new one: there on the morning news show was a woman and her interviewer talking in earnest about this new effort for the poor..... a Hallowe'en costume exchange. Um.... really? Wait.... REALLY?

Ok, wait. I agree we have to give those less fortunate a break sometimes and help them out. I've been there and the kindness of others can really make a difference. And I'm all for recycling of any kind. But a costume exchange? Has it really come to this? C'mon!

In my day we didn't even BUY costumes. My dad burned an old dried out wine cork once to make char to put on my face for that fake 5 o'clock shadow, then an old beat up hat of his and an old jacket, and out I went as a hobo, an old pillow case for the goodies I collected. One teen boy came around our place with those wax wrappers out of bread bags pinned all over him. I guess he was supposed to be a loaf of bread? A bakery? I don't know. In fact, we didn't actually know what a lot of the kids were supposed to be, but they all got candy. It wasn't some sort of requirement to be dressed in a fancy store-bought rendition of a politic figure or a movie character to be given a treat. You didn't even have to be a "little" kid to get a treat.

I remember our first year in a new community, Mom hadn't known how much candy to buy for Hallowe'en and she was running out. My friend and I, about 15 at the time, threw on some silly stuff out of the closet, went a few streets over and collected some candy. Then we came home and gave it to Mom to give out. Hey... hey... we didn't want our windows soaped or our house toilet-papered. Recycled candy works. (Yes, the next year she bought LOTS more candy.)

Sure we bought a few things for my daughter's Hallowe'en experiences... a foam nose and funny hair among them, and one year a witch's hat. But these were drug or dollar store items used to enhance something out of the closet to make her look funny, and they were used over and over again, by one or another of us, for something.
OK, time to take stock: some canned goods for the food bank; winter coat that's a bit worn, but it's still got life and it's too big for me now and I'm never going to go there again, right? Heh... hope not. So I'll wash it up and take it to the winter coat exchange. Red foam nose. Hmmm... not much bounce left in it. I dunno. Maybe not. Feel bad. I mean, I guess things are pretty bad out there. A charity costume exchange? Really?

The Reluctant Vegan

Ack ~ I've been struggling for weeks trying to figure out what's still bothering me. For years I've eliminated white wheat, meat and dairy from my diet because of colitis. Lots of fibre was an important element in anything I ate. Since spring I also had to stop having gluten. No biggy really, once I figured out what the problem was. I love brown rice pasta. I do miss bread though. A lot of gluten-free alternatives available where I shop have improved over the years, but not the bread. It's icky.

The family still eats meat, and to keep them healthy, I buy locally grown natural, organic and free-range meats and poultry. There's also an elk farm nearby and they love the spicey elk pepperettes for snacks. I also use ground elk in chili and spaghetti sauce. (Spaghetti sauce... I remember that.) Elk has a lot less fat than beef, so it helps keep that bad cholesterol down. I can also get bison burgers at a farm not too far away. They can have gluten, so it's whole grain bread, rolls and pastas for them. But Butterfly is also dairy-free because of Leaky-gut Syndrome. She can have goat milk cheese though ~ in moderation. And being of more adventurous nature than the ol' man, she'll try different foods, so she'll have vegetarian meals regularly, making her meal options more varied and quite healthy.

But for months I've been dairy, meat, gluten-free.... vegan, except for eggs. A good source of protein, I'd have egg salad on a brown rice cake for breakfast, and a hard boiled egg in the evening. This was a stinky, but yummy, 70 calory snack that got me through the night, but also, having protein at these two points in the day helps balance out that blood sugar. Coming from a diabetic lineage, I keep an eye on my blood sugar and eat accordingly. Colitis and Celiac disease is plenty, thanks... don't need to be diabetic too.

But, back to the beginning, something has still been bothering me and despite the fact that I didn't want to lose eggs, it seems my body just doesn't want them. *sigh* And so I go kicking and screaming into the world of the full-fledged vegan. For the past two mornings I had that brown rice cake spread generously with sunflower seed butter, and I put some crabapple jelly on top just because I can. (Yes, it's homemade.) Breakfast is still good (she says grudgingly).

My lunch won't change much. No more potato and egg salad, but I'm about to go roast a red pepper for my red pepper humus (recipe here somewhere... even though I can't spell). I think while I'm at it, and to help keep the house warm, I'll just roast up a bulb of garlic too. :) Then I'm going to cook about 3/4 cup of brown rice macaroni and make pasta salad with large black olives and home grown tomatoes to go with a plate of raw veggies and humus. Must go out and pick some fresh basil and sweet marjoram for the pasta salad too. Ok, there's a bunch of stuff I can't have, but I'm in no danger of starving.

So yeah, I go only reluctantly into the life of a vegan, but if I'm tempted to feel sorry for myself, I just think about those people in parts of the world where the principal food is... say... maize. And what if they can't have maize? What if they don't have agriculture nearby that grows other healthy foods? And what if they don't have a big store nearby with a health food section chock full of food alternatives? And what if they couldn't afford them even if there was?

Feh... gotta go roast that red pepper. And the garlic! Warm the house and have yum!

If you feel bad for me and want to make me feel better, click on one of these links and get involved:
https://www.shopunicef.ca/ec/Portal.aspx?LN=EN

http://plancanada.ca/

I feel better now. :)

True Human Beauty and Cliches

I was much younger and living in what seems now like another lifetime, when I learned the truth about human beauty. There are no pictures with this blog post, because I'm going to try to paint you a word picture, or two:

The students in the photographic college where I worked had been given an assignment to use their cameras to create an artistic nude. The resulting photos were used to construct a mid-term art show. I took the time to go see what the students had created.

Of course, there was photo after photo of pretty girls on the wall. There were some interesting poses, some partial nudes where the human body was made to look like some sort of landscape. Some of these were inspired and very artistic. Then, there amongst the pretty, young, mostly white women, was this older, very overweight, black woman, photographed in a frontal pose, sitting on the floor, leaning on one hand, her huge breasts hanging low like large sacks of dried peas. At first I was perplexed by the student's choice of model. She seemed incongruous amid all the pretty girls.

Then it clicked. Of course she was going to stand out ~ that was at least part of the idea. All the other photos could well have been of the same model for all I was aware. This photo was certainly going to get more attention than the others. It's the one that made me look again. And when I did, I saw something quite unexpected that I hadn't noticed at first glance ~ her eyes. This woman's eyes shone from the photo. They were so expressive, revealing her very life ~ her hardships and triumphs, her sorrows and joys, her hard work, her disappointments and heartbreaks, and the depth of love in her soul. It was all there in that photograph, and in that moment, I suddenly realized what human beauty was really all about. It had nothing to do with the pretty girls. True beauty is all about what is inside us. It was a lesson that certainly helped shape my view of life over the years.

This brings me to what I've learned about cliches. We hear them when we are young until we become quite bored with them. We yawn or wave a dismissive hand when someone speaks them. Calling something cliched is not intended as a compliment. When pondering this lesson about human beauty later, that cliche about beauty being only skin deep seemed limited and misguided forever after. Another about the eyes being windows to the soul took on fresh and profound meaning for me. I realized that many cliches became cliches to begin with because they contain a glimmer of truth, or at least something to make us think. It isn't enough to hear them. One must understand a few things about life before they have much meaning. If there was anything cliched in a bad way about that student art show, it was all the pretty girls. Regardless of the pose, the use of pretty models was merely predictable.

This happened 30 years ago, and now when I look at how our society has developed, I'm seeing this shallow rendition of skin-deep beauty take up more and more of our consciousness, with ads enticing us to hang on tenaciously to our youth by getting our breasts lifted or our kissers fixed, or "news" about what this beautiful person is doing, and which beautiful stars split up or got caught high/drunk/raving/cheating ~ all of this "news" taking the place of world events on our news channels. The world, far from becoming more beautiful, is becoming increasingly shallow, with the true beauty of humanity buried deeper and deeper in human tragedy, such as earthquakes, hurricanes and other hardships that scarcely interrupt news of who's been put in rehab lately. It makes me feel grateful, and privileged, for having even seen that photograph by an inspired young student. I never even thanked him or her for the lesson in beauty. So, if you're out there, thank you. When I got up this morning, I peeled off my jammy shirt, threw it into the laundry and walked into the bathroom naked. There in the mirror was an older woman, her breasts hanging low like sacks of dried peas.... but in her eyes, a life very much lived. I might have missed that and felt sorry myself, but for that photograph so long ago. Thanks again.

Pantyhose, Garlic and Garter Belts

So my teen daughter has her driver’s licence and likes to go out and do my errands for me. It’s an excuse for her to take the car out alone and since I'm often content to stay home and get things done, it works for me. The other day, I put “pantyhose” on the shopping list. She questioned it. I mean, I haven’t worn a dress in..... um... well, let’s just say it’s been a long, long time.

Butterfly: “Pantyhose? What do you need those for?”

Me: “Garlic.”

Butterfly, looking a little as if she’s sure it’s time to start looking for an old folks’ home: “Whaa?”

Me: “I need some sort of hosiery to store my garlic. I’m tired of it sitting around in a basket.”

Butterfly: “Oh. Anyway, pantyhose are weird.”

Me, looking at her like I’m sure I won’t be going into the home alone: “Well geez, what came before was weirder.” She looked at me with a bemused expression. I told her about this thing called a garter belt I had to wear when I was a teen. We had stockings, and they only came up to the thighs where you hooked these things hanging down from the garter belt into the tops of the stockings to hold them up. They were lumpy. They left marks on the backs of your legs from sitting on them. They were ugly, weird and uncomfortable. Pantyhose, I told her, are fantastic by comparison. (I spared her colourful reminiscences about my girdle.)

Butterfly only laughed. So I went on. When I went to school there was a dress code. Girls had to wear skirts and blouses. I wore a garter belt, and apparently was the last one to wear this antiquated garment in my school, just because I didn’t know about pantyhose when they first came out. When the other girls did wear slacks outside school, and obviously had hosiery on their feet, I wondered how they were holding up their stockings underneath, without those telltale lumps on their thighs. Bandaids, I wondered? Had they just taped their stockings to their legs? If my mom knew about pantyhose, she kept quiet about them. And I didn’t hang out with the girly-girls. I mean, they were so.... um.... you know... girly ~ all lacy frills and pinching their cheeks to make them pink. Ew.

I didn’t discover pantyhose until one day I was walking through Kresge’s and saw these “Bas Culotte” with a picture on the thin package that looked like mannequin legs. I sort of screeched to a halt and backed up. Searching the package for the English, I found “pantyhose.” What’s this? You pull them all the way up like long johns and no garter belt needed?? Cooool! After that, discovering knee highs was just a matter of time.

I think I buried the garter belt in the back garden. Deep. I didn’t want Mom coming across it if she decided to put a plant there or something. While I was at it, I put my pad belt with it. (Remember those, ladies?) I had discovered tampons. And later, of course, came sticky backs on those other things. Wow. I mean, innovation applied to women’s products. Coooool!
Well now, wasn’t this an interesting jaunt down Memory Lane? Meanwhile, my garlic is all packed away in the pantyhose Butterfly brought home. I cut the legs off, put in a bulb of garlic and tied a knot, repeating until I had all my bulbs tied up in the hosiery. Then I tied them to a shelf on the side of my kitchen cupboard where they will hang throughout the winter for as long as they last. I just need to cut them under a knot to get hold of a bulb of garlic when I need it. I’ll store my onions out of the garden the same way. Actually wear pantyhose? Not on your life. That’s for girly-girls. For me, pantyhose are for garlic, onions, and polishing my hand-made candles.

There's a Pickle in My Apple Tree

No kidding. OK, so school's in. Cucumber plants are climbers and side-winders. They will climb up almost any other plant if they're allowed to. You have to keep an eye on them. But there weren't too many plants near where I planted the dill cukes so I left them alone. There was just an apple tree.

Ok, so there's more than one pickle in my apple tree. And precious few apples. What am I gonna tell people who ask how my apple tree did this year? I'll have to tell them I got a fair to middlin' crop of pickles out of it. As if that's not enough, I'm going to have to convince Hubby to get a ladder to pick them. I can't reach 'em.

*sigh* Oh the travails of the gardener.

Peach~Blueberry Bundle

Here's a gluten-free recipe that worked... at least my fam thinks it's good. :) It's that time of year for fresh peaches and wild blueberries, so that's what I used. Here's what I did:

Fruit mixture:

5 or 6 fresh peaches, peeled and cut up

1 and 1/2 cups blueberries

about 1/4 cup brown sugar, or to taste (or sub honey or maple syrup to taste)

3 tbsp. tapioca starch

2 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 lemon, squeezed (about 2 tbsp. juice) [Reserve other half of lemon for crust.]

Stir it up to blend everything.

Crust:

1 cup almond flour

3/4 cup whole bean flour

3/4 cup sourghum flour

2 tbsp. sugar (any kind, to help it rise, or a bit of honey,but cut down a bit on fat)

1 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 tsp. sea salt

1 tsp. baking soda

1/3 cup shortening

1/2 cup milk alternative (or real milk if you can have it)

1/2 lemon squeezed (or 2 tbsp. juice)

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Stir the flours to blend. Add sugar, salt, soda, cinnamon and stir. Now, I recommend vegetable shortening cut into the flour mixture, but I used safflour oil because I just spring-cleaned my kitchen (better late than never) and couldn't find where I now keep that shortening (I know I have some. I'll no doubt find it when I'm looking for something else.) Anyway, you need 1/3 cup neutral fat cut into the flour mixture till it's crumbly. Pour 1/2 cup milk alternative (I used soy, but almond would go great with this, rice is fine, etc.) Add lemon juice to the milk to sour. Leave it sit a few minutes, then stir. Add it all at once to the crumbled flour mixture and stir until milk is absorbed. Do not overwork. Drop by spoonfuls into greased baking pan to coat bottom of pan. Spoon fruit mixture evenly on top. Bake in 425 degree oven for 30 minutes.

Serve with a little ice cream or whipped cream of some kind if you like. :)

This is a healthy, hearty, fruity, yummy dessert or breakfast food ~ also gluten-free with all the best of the season. Of course, you can substitute apples or other fruit as your family likes. I just like to enjoy peaches and blueberries in season. :) I may even try a fall version of this with pumpkin, to replace that pie I'm not going to make this year. ;o)

Is it Art?

Is this art? It's a cucumber. At least, it was supposed to be a cucumber. It's rather like me: large arse, little on top. ;o)

Of course, it grew that way because it was an "extra" cucumber plant. Yes, it's true. I had more plants than I had room for. So I put this one in amongst the blueberries. Ack. Blueberries like acid soil. Cucumbers do not. I put some compost into the hole where I planted it, but plainly the po' thang didn't have enough nitrogen to grow properly.

And so, vegetable art. :) Oh wait, it won't keep, and my stomach doesn't care if it's misshapen. ;o)

With a little hummus dip, yum.

Viral What?

Viral marketing: a sales campaign that spreads like a virus. You know, like the Old Spice man. Of course, at least that's mildly entertaining. Elsewhere people desperate to make a buck use not just commercial, but social networks, to spread word of their products.

Mental image: a gaggle of privateers desperate for rumoured treasure, all circling the same few small, leaky boats, offering rescue to those who surrender something... their money, their identity... something of worth. No, not the leaky boat. They're not interested in you, they want what you have. I guess some people are so desperate to escape the leaky boat, bobbing wildly in the swell, they'll do what they must for rescue. They have to be surrendering, or why would the privateers keep circling? Which one will throw the first rope, and at what cost?

And who of all of them is noticing the approaching storm building on the horizon?

Ok, so now I feel like the dude in the white robe walkin' around with the "end of the world" sign.

Nah. Viral marketing has been going on for a long time, in modern terms. It was at the heart of the post war boom. Remember television? It was a newfangled invention then, and it was used to hawk everything from cigarettes and laundry soap to appliances and cars, all in the name of entertainment. It's what villified the dandelion and made suburbanites all want carpety green lawns. Keeping up with the Joneses, it was called. The media by which the viral message is sent has only become increasingly slick over time.

The gathering storm? Well, see, I can't help observing that approximately 85% of the people I encounter on Twitter, for instance, are really trying to sell me something. That's not scientific... just an approximation. I mean, ya never know, maybe some of the people who now seem to be just chatting amiably will suddenly shove something at me they want me to buy. It will be something I've just go to have. It will be a secret something, a special something, an old and wise something that's been re-evaluated and packaged all anew. It will be something I can't live without... like that rescue rope. It may even be available for "free" if I just give up my account password, bank account number or access to my soul.

I just don't see how this is sustainable. I mean, are these privateers buying from each other? Or are those of us bobbing in the swell, in our leaky boats, supposed to make them all rich on the little that we have? There are more of them than us, isn't there? How does this work? *sigh* I guess I'm terribly stupid, because I don't understand how they're going to accumulate wealth when the people using the social network to actually socialize are so few, comparitively speaking. Yeah, I must be missing something essential to getting rich quick, which probably explains why I'm so poor. ;op

This morning there was a pithy message from one of the privateers. It was a quote, 'cause pithy quotes are cool and they're free, like bait on a hook. It said: "Sanity may be madness, but the maddest of all is to see life as it is and not as it should be." Don Quixote

Ok, a question: what if I see both? What if I see the dirty little truth, but can still see infinite possibility, both at the same time?

Even as I ponder this, the same tweep's next message: "Use the incredible 1,300% of Twitter to claim your life-changing share of 9,490,000 of CB tranactions" [sic]

Ow. Talk about a bitter, jagged little pill. Clearly I'm missing something. Apparently I, alone, have attracted mostly viral marketing types to my tweets. I am to believe that I am sadly unique. *sigh* Another tweet: "Most of us can see the writing on the wall, we just assume it's addressed to someone else." Ivern Ball

Ow again.

Heh. Ok, so no thanks. I don't need anything. My leaky little boat is probably going to sink and I might drown, but clearly I'm quite mad anyway, quite unneeded in a sea of potential social network consumers, and if that isn't the case, I don't think too many of us stand a chance in that storm that's a-comin' anyway. You go, privateers! And good luck!

Garlic, Glorious Garlic

One of my Facebook friends recently shared the fact that beets are now considered the new "wonder" food... or "miracle" food... or whatever. Isn't that great? Well, ok, great news for those of you who like beets. But sorry, I'm just not gonna run right out and buy some. Although, Hubby likes 'em. Might buy a jar for him, already pickled. But, nope, not for me, thanks. ;o)

I told her, it's ok if I don't care for beets, because I do like ginger, and it was a miracle food before beets were, even though I suspect they've both been around for about the same amount of time in human history. But you know, it isn't officially miracle food until some researcher says so.

Even more important, I'm a big fan of garlic. I mean, garlic really is glorious. And healthy? Whoa! Garlic down through history has been reputed to fix everything from the common cold to the Bubonic Plague. We know for sure it's a natural antibiotic and that it's good for the cardiovascular system, most notably because it keeps that bad cholesterol down.

Nothing, ever, will surpass garlic for goodness and health benefits. I'm sure of it. So, no, I don't pickle beets. I do however, as I've shown in previous blogs, pickle dill cukes. And there is a piece of garlic in most of those bottles. (There'd be garlic in them all, but sometimes I forget to drop it in before I put the lid on.) Usually it's my own garlic in there. The only other garlic that comes through my door is either locally grown, or when I can't get that, I will buy U.S. grown garlic, in a pinch. But I try to either grow enough, or buy enough at market, to get me through the year. Problem is, I use a lot of garlic. It's in my hummus dip, spaghetti sauce, other pasta dishes, ratitoulles, sauces and dressings. I chop it coarse, chop it fine, roast it, grate it and crush it. I mean, it's garlic. It goes.

Garlic is ready to pick in mid to late July. Like... now. And above is one of mine. I just pulled them out of the ground... about 30 bulbs of ... yes, glorious home-grown garlic. :) Miracle food supreme.

Aaaa~Choooo!!

Oy, ragweed. It's not sneezy yet, but it's growin' healthy out in my yard, getting ready to bloom and start causing trouble.

Every year in late summer, the news talks about ragweed and the impact the pollen has on so many of us. But I have NEVER seen the photo crew actually find ragweed to show on TV. They film all kinds of natural weeds, often golden rod, which is rarely responsible for allergic reactions.

So here's what ragweed looks like:

Out of the center of this will grow a spike, and the spike will develop little yellow flowers, and those little flowers, in turn, will put out a pollen that could make you sneeze, and make your eyes irritated, etc. (We call it hay fever, but it ain't hay.)

This is the time of year to put on your hat, sunglasses and garden gloves, and go out and pluck out all you can find in your yard, before it blooms. You won't get all the root, so one sunny day about a year from now, you'll have to do the same thing. No big whoop, right? Do your pluckin' then enjoy a nice glass of iced tea and relax. By plucking it out before it flowers, you'll reduce the ill effects for your family. I know, I know... you'll still get sneezy from your neighbours' ragweed. But it's got to start somewhere, right? And getting rid of the ragweed closest to you will help.

Now, if you'll excuse me, my tea is brewing for homemade iced tea, hat on my head, garden gloves at the ready... I'm off to pluck ragweed. Mwahahahaha!

It's Picklin' Time!

As well as the local market on Saturdays, which I blogged about below, there's a larger flea market a few communities away, near the farm where we buy our organic chicken and bison burgers. It takes place on Thursdays and Sundays.
The difference between a farmers' market and a flea market is that the former has produce and food products, such as cheeses, meats, smoked fish and baking, etc., and plants, and not too much else. The flea market has all this, as well as t-shirts, socks, toys, books, records, (yes.. not a brain fart.. RECORDS), collectibles, jewellery and more. This larger market is usually the first to have dill cukes. So while my daughter perused the clothing and music stands, I went 'round to all the produce stalls to check out the wee cukes.

We got there a bit late, and there was a storm being called for, so vendors were already packing up. For me, that was a good thing, because produce vendors don't generally want to take their products home again. I picked up some bargains, including 3 baskets of lovely looking dill cukes.

So, today I shall make dills. It's hot and humid out, so working over hot brine is going to be a drippy experience. But if you don't work up a good sweat making pickles, you ain't doin' something right. ;o)

Picklin' time!!

How My Garden Grows

Ok, just a little taste because what comes fresh out of the garden tastes so good.

I needed a potato. Hmmmm... all out. Should I go to the store or the local stand and get some? No.... wait.... if the local stand has some already, then..... I wonder.

I wandered down the yard . A couple of the potato plants were kind of in the way of the dill cuke plant. I picked on those. Here's what I found.

One plant out of the way of the dill cukes.



Two potato plants out of the way.... and there's a couple more potatoes there yet. Found 'em after I took this picture. This is where french fries come from, kids!

One potato, two potato, three potato, four.... Are all the potatoes ready?


See those little dibs on there? They would have grown bigger, so I'm just going to leave the rest of the potatoes alone. I've got enough for now... I'll pick as I need them.

So, what else is ready? Well the garlic is... I'll get all of that out of the garden tomorrow and do it up ready for pickling season. How 'bout the tomatoes?

Unless you want fried green tomatoes, those have got a ways to go yet.

The zucchini squash is about the size of a man's finger. There are peas on the pea plants and flowers still on the bean plants. Mmmmmm.... food. It's all comin' along. :)

Lavendar Biscuits...

..sort of. Ok, here's what I did. Using my fave biscuit recipe as a guide, I combined some bean flour, sourghum flour and almond flour. I added a tbsp. of brown sugar, baking powder, and just a tiddle of salt. I used vegetable shortening for the fat needed. Now I can't have dairy, so no milk. My lavendar is fully in bloom and I've been wanting to cook with some, so I went for it. I put in about a tbsp. of the fresh flowers, and for the liquid, I made a light tisane using just a few lavendar leaves. I didn't want to handle the dough too much, so I mixed it and spooned it into muffin tins and put them in the oven.

Now, I'm not giving you the exact recipe because it didn't work. It was by no means my most spectacular failure in the kitchen. The biscuits would almost need to go boom to get there. But it's back to the proverbial drawing board.




They just didn't rise. Now, I didn't use creme of tartar because I don't know for sure if it's gluten free. I must look into that. (I don't actually know what the stuff is. I mean, it isn't creamy, is it? How can a powder even be called "creme?") And I didn't add soda. Thinking now I should have.

So my biscuits were too well cooked on the outside and not cooked enough on the inside... typical of no rising power. However, they were actually kind of tasty anyway and I ate two of 'em for lunch. I probably won't eat all the rest, but I'm not just discarding them all at least.

The other correction I'll make is to add more lavendar. I think I was a little afraid of it, because if you use too much, you can wind up with food that tastes like perfume and is bitter. But with the almond in there especially, there just wasn't enough lavendar. Next time I'll add more flowers and make a stronger tisane.

Onward!

Heat Waves and Writer's Block

It's hot. Really hot. Should a person who doesn't like winter be complaining? Well... yeah. The humidity is ridiculous.

But being who I am, I decide to make the best of it. I figure I'll do some writing. Sure... too hot to do anything too active, so it's a good time to be getting some words down on paper... um... no... um... screen? Yeah.

Ok, I flashback to the ol' days now and again. At the moment I guess I can just blame the heat.

Problem is, while I don't often have trouble coming up with things to write about, I have my own kind of writer's block. Distractions. I mean, when I write I go to another place in my psyche. I'm deep, man. I'm searching the corridors of my mind for just the right words to use to describe.... whatever. And there, suddenly, in my face, is the face of my teen telling me all about some rocker dude she really, really likes. She's telling me about his latest song, his video, his real name, the names of all his band-mates, his mother's dress size.......

Huh? I was writing here! *sigh* She goes away, but no sooner am I back in those dimly lit corridors of my mind than there's that face again.

"Mom.... Mom.... will you make me a burger"

GEEEEEEZZZZ!!!!! She's old enough to feed herself, for pity's sake! She knows how to use the microwave!!

It's too hot for this. It's too hot to even scold her. Now that I'm distracted, I might as well make her the damned burger, which will keep her quiet for at least as long as it takes her to inhale it.

Done, I sit back down in front of the computer. Where was I?

Hubby walks by. You know, the way the young men where their pants down around their arses just looks stupid. "Pants on the ground, pants on the ground..." And old plumbers whose bum cracks show when they bend over.... geez... gross. But there's something about those new swim shorts on hubby that looks fine. Makes me think of those late winter nights when he crouches naked in front of the wood stove to make sure there's a good fire going. Looks so... so... primitive...

Is it hot in here? Oh wait... yeah.... there's a heat wave. I'm gonna go for a cool shower. So much for the writing.

An ~ ti ~ ci ~ pa ~ tion...

Ah yes ~ anticipation. Sweet anticipation.

I found 'em. You know those alternative, gluten-free flours I was hoping to find? Well, they were out there the whole time. Just had to go to the right place to find 'em. So here they are, 6 alternative flours.. sourghum, chic pea, quinoa, whole bean, brown rice, dark buckwheat. Yep. And some alum-free baking powder too!

Oh boy.... flour.... um... um... now what?

Hehehe... right. So I guess I'll start with some bisquits from scratch.. don't wanna think too big at the get-go. Thing is, it's just too darned hot to bake ANYTHING right now anyhow. In the meantime, I'll check out Shawna James Ahern's gluten free girl, Chickie Pea's blog on facebook, The Healthy Haven blog, glutenfreefun.com, etc. for suggestions and how to. I'll make a list.

Yeah, that's what I'll do.. a list of baking projects I can start with just as soon as the weather cools a bit. So.. yep.

Aarrrggghh.. anticipation...

Face the Fireworks!

This is the time of year when, north of the U.S./Canada border, we celebrate Canada Day on July 1st, and to the south, ya'll celebrate Independence Day, aka the 4th of July. Well we all traditionally celebrate with fireworks, and you have to be facing them to see them, or what's the point. ;o) Here are some that may not be as spectacular as the real thing, but at least they're safe... and I think they're interesting. :)

Hubby decided to try to get some photos of the fireworks. Here's a sample of what he got:

And here are some sites that offer virtual/cyber fireworks displays. Hey, for those of you with little kids, might keep them busy for awhile. Y'know? ;o)

http://www.cyberfireworks.com/

http://www.maylin.net/Fireworks.html

Just for fun today.

1-800 Are you kidding me?

So all these conglomerized companies have a web site and a 1-800 number. Well, I opted to try the web site, because even though I'm somewhat tech-challenged, I've called that 1-800 number before, only to wind up talking with someone who is unknowing and haughty about it.

One time I called a company we'll call PC to ask for more information about a product, only to be told the product didn't exist because it wasn't on her list. It was there, in my hand as I spoke with her. I read the product info directly off the package. But apparently I was living in some other dimension at that moment because the product I was holding, I was repeatedly assured, did not exist. *tweet tweet*

Hoping to avoid that bizarre dimension again, I went to the web site and clicked on "contact us." Of course, it wasn't that simple ~ there are hoops to jump through. But finally I got to an email box that told me to just go ahead and pour my heart out. Fortunately, I didn't waste that much time, but I did state the problem, then I hit "submit." It wouldn't accept my comments though, because I hadn't put my full name and address, only my email addy. OK... so I searched for those little boxes where you can put the required info. There just weren't any... not up, not down, not sideways... no boxes. So I typed in the required info under my name and hit "submit." Nope. Hehe... very tricky. Get consumers to get it all off their chests and then don't accept their comments. Interesting PR strategy.

So... yep... I called the 1-800 number. The first thing they made me do was listen to a very loud, long commercial for their freakin' mac n' cheese product (which no one in our house will EVER use) before taking me to an "expert." I told her, if consumers are grumpy by the time they get to her, they have ample reason. I regaled her with my web site adventure and suggested she tell her bosses to deep six the damned phone commercial, if only to save wear and tear on people like her. I went light though... afterall, this isn't the CEO on the phone. T'would that it t'were.

No, I'm on the line with only a company expert. Right. Now, there was a time in my life when I thought people who were supposed to be experts would actually know something, but I'm thinking I was just young and naive myself and wanted to believe in faeries... I mean.. experts. I remember my dad saying about experts: "X is a sign for an unknown quantity and a spurt is a drip under pressure." It comes back to me at regular intervals somehow.

Sure enough, on the other end of the phone is a young... may I say... blonde. (C'mon, you know what I mean.) She sounded... um... perky. I was really in no mood, but I asked her if her company carries a gluten-free mayo product. She responded that they're not allowed to say anything is gluten-free, but if there was gluten in the product in question, it would have the wheat or other grain mentioned on the label. (Because, of course, I'm really stupid and didn't read the label before calling.) *sigh*

Ok, patience... Thing is, I have Shauna James Ahern's book, gluten free girl, sitting beside me wherein she's written about "hidden" sources of gluten, such as corn dextrin, so I say so. The girl repeats her schpeal. I repeat, "but there could be other sources..." and again, she repeats her well-rehearsed schpeal. Clearly I'm speaking to a perky programmed 'droid. Great. Of course, Einstein's definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. Clearly I'm floating dangerously close to this space.

I gave up. What else? It's probably what these companies hope we'll all do ~ just give up in exasperation. Only the bottom line matters, so why waste time on consumer questions? *sigh* So I gave the girl my address when she asked, so she could send me coupons. See, 'cause that's what they do... you have a problem, they send coupons ~ for products you don't even want. (But hey, maybe the BIL can use them, eh?)

So I have to face it. The gluten-free mayo I bought in the health food section of my local grocery store may be a little overbearing, but I'm going to have to get used to it. At least the cider vinegar that makes it taste so strong is good for me. *sigh*

People. What a species.

Mmm.. That Market!

Do you have a farmers' market in your town? We do. We're so lucky to have it there, down by docks, nestled into the pavilion, which is surrounded every Saturday morning by canopies seeming to sprout from the very pavement. There's nothing like sauntering past the stalls of tantilizing foods and beautiful crafts in the fresh summer breezes off the bay. People come by boat, car, bike and on foot to enjoy these special goods.

Our market features hand-made, homemade, homegrown, organic and fair trade goods. I NEVER take enough money for all my purchases. I just run out before I'm through because there's just always something new!

Today we bought butter tarts, fresh basil, raspberry-apple crisp, Ying-Yang hummus dip (half garlic/half roasted red pepper), organic ground beef, meat pies, Jamacian meat patties, elk pepperettes (the hot ones), berries, and more. Another great thing about an outdoor market is that you don't have to leave the dog in the car. (Although you do have to scoop.) ;o)

I not only LOVE getting hold of high-quality, healthy, locally grown/made goods, I enjoy supporting the local economy by shopping at the markets and downtown businesses, instead of the big box stores. I like that the small businesses will order what I want, instead of telling me what I must settle for (because it's what they carry). And I like that they don't lie to me about their goods being organic (as the big box store here has been caught doing), and they don't presume to censor the goods (like music) available to my family. OK, it costs me a bit more, but that's because the local stores and markets can't artificially lower their prices in an effort to crush the competition. They don't need to. I don't want temporarily artificial prices that I know will skyrocket once the competition is out of the way. I just want fair prices. And so I choose to give my business to local small entrepreneurs.

Overall, it's economically better for my community than those no-benefits, minium wage jobs at the box store.

Where do you shop?

Skum n' Bread

Ok, so you're already bleched out. But really, it's not that bad.

When I was a little kid, it was just standard stuff that strawberry season = homemade jam. We'd go off to school in the morning quite unsuspecting that it was a special day. But then we'd come home to the luscious smell of hot strawberry jam filling the whole house. We'd scarcely get the back door open before yelling, with ridiculous, child-like glee, "SKUM 'N BREAD!"

Ok, so see, when you make jam out of red berries ~ strawberries, raspberries, even strawberry/rhubarb ~ you have to skim it. This is because, as you cook the berries, a pink froth appears on the top of the hot jam. The more you cook it, the more pink froth just magically appears. When I first asked Mom what that pink stuff was, she replied, "skum." I don't know if she was trying to gross us out so we wouldn't want it, or if it just followed for her that the stuff skimmed off jam was skum. But there it is. And it was good. Mom didn't have to knock herself out making a big dinner after making jam. The kids, at least, were already full of skum and bread.

When I make jam, I skim... to a point. If I just kept skimming ~ endlessly ~ there'd be no jam left, so when most of the skum is off, I bottle up my jam. That pink coating on top of the last jar? Well that's the one I keep for the fam, but if there's some pink fluff on yours, donworryaboutit.

It's just skum.

It's all good. :)

Eat jam responsibly. ;o)

Strawberry Jam

6 cups cleaned strawberries, cut the bigger ones in half

4 and 1/2 cups refined sugar

2 tbsp. fresh lemon juice

Put into a large saucepan and cook till it's jam. Bottle it up in sterilized jam jars, and place sterilized lids on top. Enjoy.

HAPPY CANADA DAY!

Captain Canada and His Beaver People
(A story for Canada Day)

As Captain Canada foraged through the tall stalks of corn, his beaver people meekly followed.

"Don't move too fast," he advised. "Someone might see the stalks waving around and know we're here."

Quickly and quietly the group picked several cobs of corn, then weaved their way out of the field, back to the beat up car by the side of the country road. Throwing the corn into the trunk, they took off in a cloud of oily exhaust fumes, back to the city.

There, in an untidy apartment above a pizza joint, they shucked and boiled the corn.

"Don't cook it too long!" said one beaver. "It will make it tough."

After 10 minutes they tried it, but it was too hard to bite into, so they threw it back into the hot water. After 20 minutes, same thing. After 30 minutes, "I don't think this is edible," offered Captain Canada.

"It's cow corn," said one beaver, disparagingly.

Hence, Captain Canada and his beaver people learned a lesson about the difference between corn grown for human consumption, and that grown for farm animals. It was a hard lesson.

So they passed a pipe around and tried to think what to do next.

After a while, one beaver piped up, "let's go for pizza!" So they all got up and went down stairs.

Let this be a lesson to you young people:

1) Never steal corn. (It's just wrong.)
2) Never follow anyone who calls himself, Captain Canada.
(Now that's just crazy.)
3) Never allow yourself to be referred to as a "beaver."
(Unless you're a young Girl Guide.)
4) Never drive an ecologically unsafe vehicle.
(Gov't won't let ya anyway.)
5) Never share a pipe.
(The potential for germs.. Dr. Oz would be mortified.)

Happy Canada Day!

Cautionary Tale

I really don't want to turn this into just a health blog; I like to explore ALL aspects of life as we know it on here, especially the annoying ones. ;o) However, as some of these important aspects of life are health issues, I'd like to share a cautionary tale.

I do this simply because I don't want others to go through what I have if there's a way to prevent it. And there is. Awareness is the key. So I give you one word: ALUMINUM.

I mentioned on my last blog that before I got celiac disease, I already had colitis. Symptoms of chronic illness can be so insidious, sometimes we really don't realize we're ill until those symptoms become debilitating. So it was with colitis. I knew something was wrong, but I just thought I needed to eat healthier, so I got the whole grain pastas, added veges to my diet, ate fish (tuna) regularly. Yet I still got sicker and sicker... no energy, gut pain, bleeding bowel... I won't get too graphic because if you want to know more about colitis you can always look it up. Suffice it to say I was suffering and wound up ass up in a little room in the hospital, somewhat drugged, a doctor coming at me with a hose-lookin' thing with a camera on the end of it. This is called a colonoscopy. Not fun... drugs notwithstanding. Through the haze of those lovely seditives I heard the doctor say, "colitis." Then he instructed the nurse to have me make an appointment for 3 weeks hence.

Three weeks to find out about this colitis thing... more than enough. The library books told me what the doctor would say and gave all kinds of case histories. A common thread ran through many of them. Aluminum.

After reading this, I looked at my pots, pans, utensils. I'd grown up with these. Mom gave them to me years ago when I left home and got herself new stuff. Aluminum. I looked at the colanders I used to drain my healthy pastas ~ both of them ~ aluminum.

Longer story short, I got rid of them and replaced them with stainless steel, enamel or glass. I started noticing all the consumables that come in aluminum and I stopped using them. I made dietary adjustments to accomodate my condition, including no dairy, white wheat, red meat and no more tuna (mercury). I got well. My colitis remained in remission until I got complacent and drank some iced tea out of cans. Lesson learned. (Canned beer, soda pop, teas and even the lining of some drinkin' boxes.. aluminum.)

Life is good with no gluten. Life is good with no aluminum. Even with all these dietary restrictions, there are still lots of foods left and I feel good. I can see the blue sky, feel the warm sun, smell the fragrant breezes, hear the rain on my deck, get annoyed with technology and its limitations (another blog.. again) and go shopafrolicking without worry! Yep, life is good.

Note: Everyone is different. You may have enjoyed your drinks from cans forever and feel no ill effect. I reached my saturation point for aluminum in my 40s. You may never do so. But know that you could and what it can do to you. Aluminum and consumables don't really mix well.

To follow me on Twitter: @Wendakai

Other health resources on twitter I suggest:

@Marielhemingway

@mercola

@MattinglyMD

@iHerb

Some of these folks are also on facebook.

It's Not About the Destination...

..it's about the journey. Today I embark on a search for alternative grains and other gluten-free foods I can have.

I already traded in my beloved lite Miracle Whip for gluten-free mayonaisse. (Kraft, do you make a gluten-free product??) And I found gluten-free dijon mustard in the same health-food aisle. Chic peas have become a big part of my life. Oh, the mighty chic pea. *bowing*

Of course, you may be saying to yourself, who cares? All I can tell you is that the doctor wasn't at all surprised by my gluten intolerance, and that's simply because he's encountering it with so many of his patients. Pay mind, readers ~ this may be a problem you'll need to be aware of in future. That might not be a gall stone causing your discomfort... might be gluten.

Todays' search will focus mostly on alternative grains. Specifically I'm hoping to find sorghum flour, amaranth, bean flour and/or oats that aren't contaminated with wheat. We'll see what I bring home. I really miss bread, rolls, biscuits, etc. While the brown rice pasta is delicious and the rice cakes are good, brown rice bread is yucky and cloying, even when toasted and toasted some more. I must find alternative flours, and while I'm out there, I must get some gluten-free baking powder.

Onward to the hunt. And then on to the kitchen experiments, with the guidance of others who've gone before. Later ~

Added several hours later:

Ok, here's how I did. As I suspected, I couldn't find these flours on my first lookabout, but what I did find was Bob's Red Mill mixes, some of them using the very flours I was looking for. I'm not really a "mix" kind of cook, but hey... gotta go with what's available and maybe this isn't a bad place to start.

So then, here was the opportunity to make something for supper besides the brown rice pasta with veges and some sort of dressing. Don't get me wrong... I love that. But EVERY night? Maybe not. So I went with the biscuit mix and the almond "meal/flour." I made half a recipe of the biscuits using part vege shortening and part roasted garlic olive oil and water. Those in the oven, I cut several slices of zucchini, dipped them in egg seasoned with salt and pepper, then the almond, and fried them in XV olive oil. In another small pan I put some mushrooms, chopped green onion and pieces of asparagus to saute. Then I poured the beaten egg leftover from dipping the zuc in with the veges. With some li'l tomatoes, this was my supper:

It was surprisingly good. Really the only complaint I had is that the biscuits took longer to bake than the pkg. directions indicated, so some of my zuc slices got a little mushy, and I like them firm. But that's easily adjusted another time.

You may have noticed that there's no meat included in any of my food posts. That's because before I got celiac disease, I already had colitis. So I was already on a special diet where I couldn't have any dairy, red meat, or white wheat. I did eat chicken, but now apparently that's no longer an option either. Basically then, there's 3 things I can eat: *veges, brown rice and the one animal product my body will still tolerate, eggs. So this is why I'm so anxious to discover some of these gluten-free grains. So far, so fun and interesting. ;o)

*Yes, I can also have fruit ~ I'm just far more likely to have it as a drink, rather than in solid form.

Note: if you're interested in more info on dietary issues, look for Chickie Pea's blog on Facebook called Eating for Autoimmune Health, and The Healthy Haven, by iHerb on wordpress.com, and nutritionevolution.net, all great nutrition resources. (I'd give you the links, but this thang won't copy and paste and they're rather long.)